


Be Heroic

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, I wanted to know what happened to Thorne between getting captured and ending up in the throne room, Injury, Thorne and Cress are so cute together help, look I just really really love Carswell Thorne okay, look I wrote a thing for this fandom aren't you guys proud of me, so I accidentally wrote it myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 18:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: That scene inWinterbetween Thorne getting captured and Cinder finding him in the throne room during the showdown with Levana? Yeah, I wrote it.





	Be Heroic

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why I wrote this, I don't know either. I think it's a thing that once I latch onto a new favorite character, I have to force as much angst onto them as possible. Also I just love anything from Thorne's POV, so this is me contributing to that cause hallelujah amen. 
> 
> Also this is my first time writing for this fandom so yeet. Life's a load of barnacles, man.

Cress’ lips were soft and sweet. Thorne tried not to consider the very real possibility that this might be the last time he would ever get this chance again and focused on pouring every emotion he had into the fleeting kiss. They were out of time.

“Be heroic,” he whispered as he pulled away, wrapping Cress’ delicate fingers around the handle of his indelicate gun. He could still taste her lips against his as he turned around and took off running, his heart pounding with every step.

If Cinder were here, she would no doubt be criticizing his improvisations: _What is it with you and letting yourself get caught to save everyone else? Idiot. _

But when the cacophony of pounding of boots erupted behind him, Thorne found that he didn’t regret his decision one bit. Not when he knew that in any situation that ended with it being him or Cress, there was nothing in the world—Earth _or_ Luna—that would keep him from protecting her with his dying breath.

He didn’t dare look behind him; just kept running, kept leading the soldiers as far away from Cress as he could get them.

He managed to make it almost two corridors away, which he was mildly proud of. Until, as always, everything went downhill from there.

_“Stop!” _a voice boomed behind him. A witty remark instinctually built behind Thorne’s tongue because, well, come _on._ Did the guards seriously expect him to stop just because they told him to? Unless they used glamour, of course, but that was a wildly unfair advantage, so he wasn’t letting that count for now.

He heard the gunshot before he felt it—and _stars,_ did he feel it. He grunted as his leg gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the solid ground and earning himself several bruises in the process. He could already feel blood start to ooze from the brand-new hole in his thigh, just above his knee.

Thorne groaned and rolled onto his back just in time to see the guards approach. He forced a grin and sighed dramatically. “All this over a pesky Earthen? You guards are pathetic.”

That was responded to with a swift kick to the chest which sent the air rushing out of his lungs. He curled in on himself with a groan.

“He is definitely one of the cyborg’s allies,” one of the men said. “The question is, what are you doing in the palace?”

Thorne managed a smile despite the burning in his ribs. “Just kissing my girl.” Every breath came out as a wheeze. “I didn’t realize that was a…a capital offense around here.”

His attention shifted at once when he heard a tinny squeak come from a storage cabinet just a few feet down the hall, and all the blood drained from his face. _Cress. _She must have hidden herself close by. In an instant, something inside of Carswell shifted. Now, every ounce of the energy he had left was funneled straight into his determination that they would not lay a _finger _on her.

So, he sent the guards another shit-eating grin and prayed that Cress would keep herself quiet for just a few minutes more. That she wouldn’t do something crazy like try to save him at the risk of her own safety. That she would forget about him completely and keep herself _alive, _just stay _alive, Cress. _

“Where is the girl you were with?” the same guard asked.

“I think you scared her off.” Now that he had a minute for the adrenaline to fade, the pain was starting to set in. Getting shot _sucked._ If he wasn’t feeling so woozy, Thorne would have kicked one of the guards in the shin for the audacity alone.

The guard sighed. “We don’t have time for this.” He turned to another. “Put him in a holding cell—we’ll deal with him after the coronation. I’m sure he’ll make a delightful Earthen pet for one of the families. And keep looking for that girl—alert me the moment you find her.” Thorne channeled every nerve in his body to keep himself from looking in Cress’ direction. “Increase security around the great hall. They’re plotting something, and Her Majesty will kill us all if the ceremony is interrupted.”

For good measure—and to be an asshole—he sent another kick to Thorne’s side, and this time Thorne heard a crack that _had_ to be a rib fracturing. He grunted and put up no fight as the guards hefted him up by his arms and proceeded to drag him away.

He sent one last glance toward Cress’ hiding spot. _Stay safe, _he thought. And let himself be taken.

* * *

First impression? The prisons were disgusting. Compared to how pristine the rest of Luna was, it was almost a shock to see a part of the hunk of rock that managed to accumulate grime. He never thought he would ever miss New Beijing prison.

“You know,” Thorne said conversationally as the guards dragged him to his cell, “I wouldn’t be opposed to crashing in Their Lawfully-Wedded Highnesses’ honeymoon suite instead. Not like they’re going to be using it or anything. And it’s gotta be a hell of a lot nicer than this place.” Thorne chuckled to himself, only to be cut off by a swift punch to the head.

Stars burst in his vision, and he wisely kept his mouth shut after that. That was probably a good idea, anyhow. All this blood loss was making his head kind of foggy, and he knew that was a bad sign.

The guards threw him into the cell and he landed hard on his already-injured side, letting out a whine. “Aces, you guys _really _don’t like me,” he bit out. “Was it something I said?” The clang of metal doors rang through the air, and then he was alone.

With great effort, Thorne managed to sit up. His injured ribs and leg screamed at him with every movement, but he moved back until he was leaning against the wall of the cell. He slumped, catching his breath.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “This is fine. Perfectly fine.” It certainly wasn’t the worst situation he’d ever been in. Compared to crossing the desert while blind, this was a piece of cake.

He tried to bring up everything he could remember from his military training—which, admittedly, wasn’t much. First things first: take inventory.

His ribs hurt, but weren’t likely to kill him. The gunshot wound, on the other hand, was a problem—especially considering the inevitability of catching some nasty infection during his stay. It had only been ten minutes since he’d been shot, and already the blood loss combined with the searing pain made it quite the accomplishment that he hadn’t thrown up or passed out. Yet.

Thorne grimaced. It could be hours before someone retrieved him—off to his very own execution, no doubt. (Or a thrilling rescue, courtesy of his crew. Whichever came first.) He knew that in the meantime he had to patch the wound before it could grow worse, but his options weren’t looking too pretty in terms of first-aid.

He still had that knife he’d snatched the mansion, though. Grimacing as he shifted, Thorne pulled the kitchen knife from its hiding place tucked in the back of his belt. Thank the stars those sorry excuses for guards hadn’t checked him too thoroughly for weapons.

There wasn’t much in the way of bandages, so Thorne slipped off his ridiculous purple blazer and tore it into strips. Would that be enough? For the first time ever, Thorne wished he had Jacin by his side. As cynical as the guy was, he knew his way around an injury the way Thorne did the Rampion.

With great care, Thorne slipped the tip of the knife through his pant leg and tore a large enough hole in the fabric so he could see what he was working with. It took all of his willpower not to throw up.

The wound was an angry red—the rent itself half an inch thick and bleeding steadily. Thorne knew he had to get the bullet out, because he was _not_ about to take a gamble on whatever the hell Lunars laced their bullets with. Thankfully, Thorne’s extraordinary luck appeared to have struck again, as the bullet didn’t hit bone. It sat just at the surface of his flesh; shallow so he could see it, but just deep enough that there was no way he would be able to take it out with his fingers alone.

Thorne gritted his teeth and took several deep breaths to steady himself. His hand shook as he slowly brought the knife back to the wound, laying the tip just against the bullet hole. He hissed at the sting from that contact alone. But he couldn’t leave the bullet in there.

Inhaling shakily, Thorne brought his free wrist to his mouth and bit down on the sleeve. _One, two— _He dug the knife into the wound and screamed into his makeshift gag as white-hot pain burst from his leg, sharp and agonizing.

His hand shook so badly that it was a miracle he didn’t slip up as he dug the knife in deeper around the edge of the bullet, hooking it up and out of the skin. Tears welled in his eyes and his screams of pain were muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

Finally, the bullet fell to the cement floor with a clank. Thorne dropped the knife, fingers trembling as the remnants of pain radiated through his skin in waves. The moment the bullet was out the wound began to bleed anew, so he grabbed the makeshift bandages he’d set aside and hastily wrapped them around his leg, biting back groans as he did so.

Once the bandages were secure, Thorne sank back against the wall to catch his breath. “Fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes and scrubbing away his tears with his sleeve.

He hoped the others were doing better than he was right now. Hoped Cress had made it to the control center and broadcasted Cinder’s video. Hoped that Cinder’s revolution was underway as planned. Thorne couldn’t bear to imagine what would happen if they failed—if the next time he saw his crew they were getting thrown into cells just like this one.

He hated being useless. Instead of fighting with the others like he was supposed to, here he was stuck on the sidelines, waiting for fate to catch up with him in one way or another. There was nothing left for him to do but wait helplessly until either he was freed, executed, or manipulated into becoming another of Levana’s puppets.

It was funny, though. A few months ago, Thorne would have traded anything if it meant saving his own skin. And now…

He wasn’t a hero. Definitely not that. But he had to admit; knowing that sacrificing himself meant that Cress had a fighting chance? He found that it was more than worth it, and he would make the same decision again in a heartbeat.

So, with nothing to do until he was either freed or killed, Thorne settled himself in for the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! Donate one comment and in return I will swallow a kiwi whole.
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


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